The night was dark, the desert drear,
And Jacob’s heart was sad with fear.
He laid his staff upon the ground;
A stone he for his pillow found;
And jaded, sorrowful, oppressed,
He seeks his aching limbs to rest;
He counts himself of all bereft—
None near to shield, or cheer him, left;
A stranger, homeless and forlorn;
Through his own fault so rudely torn
From all he’d loved from childhood’s morn.
What solemn lessons may we learn
While we ourselves in him discern,
The Esau and the Jacob life,
The flesh and spirit’s constant strife:
How e’en, while faith directs the will,
Evil is ever present still;
The need to watch, the need to pray,
E’en while we tread the heavenward way!
He sleeps at last—forlorn, alone,
His aching head upon the stone;
When lo in visions of the night
What heavenly glories meet his sight!
From the cold earth on which he lies,
A ladder reaches to the skies.
The upward path to heaven above;
The downward of Incarnate love;
And lo! above it stands the Lord,
By all those angel hosts adored,
Whose gracious voice, in accents clear,
Thus spoke to Jacob’s ravished ear:
Though now alone, cast out, distressed,
More than the dust thy seed shall be;
To north and south, to east and west
Shall spread thy countless progeny;
Lo! I am with thee; I will keep
Thee as the apple of Mine eye:
My loving care shall never sleep;
I will thy every want supply.
Oh, what an hour of sacred bliss!
What has the world compared with this?
What though his bed be on the ground,
And desolation dark around,
Heaven opens to his wondering eyes,
A way from earth to reach the skies:
Th’ angelic hosts are gathered there
To guard him, as salvation’s heir.
Wisdom and mercy—all engage
His head to shield, His woes assuage;
To comfort, to protect and bless
His journeys through the wilderness:
Whene’er He leans on pilgrim’s rod,
Jacob may well trust Jacob’s God.
J. G. Deck (adapted from a lengthy poem)